Page 114 of Burn of the Everflame

She tutted and tucked a stray hair into place. Though I’d opted not to wear my Crown as a show of deference to the council, Eleanor had insisted on braiding my hair into a circle as a subtle reminder of who sat on the throne.

“You’ll still command the army and the Royal Guards,” she said. “That’s where the real power lies.”

“Only until the war is over. Then . . .”

Zalaric’s head tilted as if he’d noted the shift in my mood. As one of the few Descended in Lumnos strong enough to feel my aura, I was sure he’d also noticed its absence from having drained my magic the night before. His Umbrosian upbringing kept him from asking too many questions, but from the way he’d been watching me all morning, I suspected the curiosity was eating him alive.

“Regretting your decision?” he asked.

“If I am, all the more reason to do it. I won’t let myself turn into Remis and the Twenty Houses, fighting over power.”

Eleanor scoffed. “You’re nothing like them. They only want power for themselves. Besides, the Blessed Kindred chose you.”

Not to lead—to be the sacrificial lamb.

“Would you mind giving me a moment?” I asked.

“Of course. Luther’s in the parlor. Shall I send him in?”

“No.”

Eleanor and Zalaric exchanged a loaded look, then left. I found Sorae outside on the terrace, wings slumped at her sides and head propped on the balustrade’s edge.

“Beautiful day, isn’t it?” I asked her. “It’s warm for spring. Looks like it might be a hot summer.”

She ignored me, refusing to break her gaze from the distant horizon.

I propped a hand on my hip. “Still mad, huh?”

Her nostrils flared with a puff of smoke.

“Sorae, I’m sorry I took Tybold and made you stay back. I was . . .”

Angry. I’d been so fucking angry—at myself, at the gods, at Doriel, at my father’s murderer, who might never see justice now that I was out of clues.

In my rage and loathing, I’d been drawn to Tybold’s vengeful energy. He understood what it meant to hate the world. When my godhood exploded in fury, he’d given me neither judgment nor solace, only the gloomy companionship of two beings who knew that their misery couldn’t be escaped, only endured.

My excuses did little to soothe Sorae’s tender heart. Tybold had chosen her over me, she had chosen me over him, and I had chosen Tybold over her. The three of us were caught in a tumultuous jumble of loyalties, and my volatile emotions weren’t helping one bit.

I leaned my arms on the railing, staring at the palace grounds. From the shadows of the forest, two golden eyes gazed back.

“Tybold never hurt me in Ignios. He couldn’t have, even if he wanted to. You know that, Sorae. He was trying to protect you.”

A growl punctuated the indignant energy rumbling through our bond. The prideful ruffle of her feathers seemed to say: How could I ever need protection from you?

“That’s what you do when you love someone. When you think they’re in danger, you try to save them.” I toyed with my pendant. “Even if you know you can’t win.”

Her wing stretched and brushed my arm, a sweet contradiction to her stubborn glare.

“Sorae, look at me.” She complied against her will, compelled by the bond. “You know what I might have to do at the end of all this.”

She snapped her jaws, tail smacking angrily on the stone.

“I don’t like it, either. But if it does come to that, then I’ll be gone, and so will the Crowns. You and Tybold will be free.” She let out a whine, and I laid a hand on her snout. “You deserve a future filled with love. Please don’t let me be the reason you don’t take it.” I touched my forehead to hers. “Don’t let your pride be the reason, either.”

She flicked her tail again, valiantly trying to hold on to her irritation, though the longing I felt in her heart told the truth.

I gave her a brief scratch under her chin that she grudgingly leaned into. “No attacking the council meeting, alright? No matter what you sense. You’ve got to let me fight this one myself.”